


Dark Paths [HIATUS]

by DanishPotato



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtuber RPF
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Dark, Blood and Gore, Dark fiction, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Language, Gore, M/M, Mark & Jack Hate Each Other, Minor Character Death(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Septiplier - Freeform, Slow Romance, Swearing, not much smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-07-18 20:03:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7328554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanishPotato/pseuds/DanishPotato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I swear I'll kill you, no matter what it takes." </p>
<p>Jack saw two pairs of eyes, looking at him from behind a door. Two people, now witnesses to the crime he had just committed. Two more that would have to die. But things didn't go as planned, and Jack, having killed one, let the other go. Nine years later, Jack comes face to face with a shard of his past. His name is Mark, and he hasn't forgotten the murder of his brother at the hands of the green-haired man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nine Years Ago

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this is my first fic. Little anxious, because as I started to write it, I realised it was less of a romance and more of just dark fiction. I was never good at writing romance, either, so if you're looking for Fluff, this probably isn't the place to come (sorry =π= )
> 
> I'm not sure how often I'll be uploading. I'll try to keep a schedule, but knowing me, it probably won't be consistent. I will let you guys know if it's more than a week between chapters, so I won't disappear.  
> Thanks, and enjoy! \\(^,^)/

  
The home was silent. No one was awake, being long past midnight. Jack opened a window on the ground floor, detaching the fly screen so he could creep inside unheard. Thankfully it was a modern house, the flooring not old enough to creak or make noises as he stepped across it. Up the stairs, to the first bedroom—on the left. The two adults sleeping peacefully within didn't even have time to open their eyes before they were dead. A quick flick of the wrist was so much quieter than a gunshot. He finished quickly, making sure no blood was left on his clothes.

His next destination was the bedroom at the end of the hall; two more victims resided within. However when he opened the door he found they weren't there. Refusing to panic—because panic was fear—he proceeded to look into the rooms, still maintaining a silence about him. When toilet flush echoed through the house it sounded like a gunshot. How had he not heard them? He hurriedly moved outside the only bathroom in the house, and as the door opened two faces peeked out. Two young boys. They were about to cry, he could see their faces contorting. Of course they would, they were only young, seeing a strange man in their house must have been distressing. He had to do what he came here to do; so he did. Before the children had even collected a shred of their thoughts, he pulled a second knife from his belt and flicked with his wrist. One for each child; both found their mark. Blood dripped from their necks, a steady pump of blood that barely sprayed. Unfortunately this was messier than Jack had hoped, but it'd have to do. He quickly stepped away to avoid any blood getting on his boots, and made to exit the house.

If Jack had thought the toilet flush was a startling noise, it was quickly topped by a sharp breath and the shuffling of feet. Inside the house. _Fuck! Who else is in here?_ Jack thought, a feeling of panic rising within him, which he fought to keep down. He turned around, and down the length of the hall was another door that was slightly ajar. Two more people, who drew back behind the door as he looked in their direction. No one else was supposed to be in the fucking house. Who the fuck were they? _No, it doesn't matter,_ he decided. He'd have to get rid of them. They didn't want this to be discovered for a while, and witnesses couldn't be left alive. He just hoped they wouldn't scream.

They didn't. He entered the room and flicked the light on. Two men, both appearing about his age, though one was slightly older, backed up against the back wall. The room held a bunk bed, wardrobe, and a table. The slightly older was visibly shielding the other with his body, both seeming paralysed with fear. Jack pulled out his gun, swiftly removing the safety and pointing it at them.

"Don't scream. Don't talk. Don't make a noise. It'll be quick." Jack said softly. The older made to open his mouth and say something, but closed it briefly. Then he spoke.

"Please," he said softly, "Let us go. We won't tell anyone." He spoke hushedly, and it was only the desperation with which he spoke that stopped Jack from shooting him then and there. Also, he didn't really want to use his gun. It was for show, mostly. A knife just didn't have the same impact.

"No can do, I'm afraid. You saw it." Jack replied nonchalantly.

"...please. If not me, then at least let my little brother go." Jack felt his heart squeeze a little. The scene brought to mind memories, old ones, of a time when he'd had family that would do the same. Had done the same.

"I'm sorry," was all Jack could say.

"I'm begging you. I don't care what you do to me… just let my brother go. He won't make a sound. I swear. We're innocent…" tears filled the man's eyes. Jack felt his heart twist again, the kind of pain he hadn't felt in a while. _I'm so screwed,_ Jack thought. He didn't lower the gun, but pulled out a knife.

"Get to the side. Don't dare to try and overpower me." He ordered, and the man obeyed, moving to the other wall. Jack looked over the younger brother, analysing him. He hadn't spoken the whole time. Shocked? Probably. Jack doubted he'd ever get over this night. And if he turned to revenge… that would be a problem, but he could deal with that later. He flipped the knife in his hand, and shifted into a stance before bringing the butt of the knife to the temple of the younger man, who crumpled instantly. The older let out a gasp and shifted forward, but Jack turned the knife back and held it against the other's throat.

"Don't… move," Jack whispered, "it's your lucky day." A wave of relief washed over the older's face, and he let out a soft breath.

"Thank you."

Jack pressed the knife into his throat. "I'll look after him," He promised. The older man smiled, and a tear slipped down his cheek, before a knife slipped across his throat. Jack stepped back to avoid the spray. His hands were shaking. His boss was going to kill him. And how was he going to haul the still-alive body to a hospital? _Fuck,_ Jack swore.

 


	2. I finally found you.

Jack was being guided by two security guards, guns hanging from their belts, through a hallway. He was merely attending a meeting, but he couldn't blame the host for taking precautions. More than a few rumours had surfaced about him—barely a third true, but he enjoyed the fame anyway. Jack supposed the other guests were getting the same treatment. _Guests? Is it even appropriate to call them that?_ he joked, chuckling audibly. One guard glanced at him oddly.

They got to the room in good time, and Jack happened to be the fourth there. The three before him consisted of a blond, a brunette with a small beard, and another that wore a white mask with a simple, inexpressive face decorating it—all guys. _A shame,_ he thought.

The man obviously leading the meeting walked up to him. "Jack, you're here. I'm usually working in the placement of men, but I'll be speaking to you today about Deed's job for you. These are three of your new coworkers, three more are still getting here. This is Cry"—Jack acknowledged the man with the mask with a simple nod of the head, despite prompts for a handshake—"and Felix," again, Jack nodded his head at the blond, before the host moved on to quickly introduce the brunette, Ken.

Jack settled into one of the seats that were set up, all facing a screen that Jack assumed would later display an image. There were seven seats, just enough for all of them, but it made the room seem empty. If a fight broke out there'd be more space to move. That wouldn't be a clear advantage or disadvantage for Jack, instead depending on the other person and their style.

Jack's thoughts were disrupted as he heard knocking. A security guard, then a group of three, and another guard brining up the rear entered the room. The guards, taking a sign from the host, took their leave soon after. The group consisted of a tall short-haired brunette with glasses, another brunette who had a slight beard, and a black-haired guy with a strip of red dye emblazoning the top of his head.

"Great, everyone's here!" The host smiled. "Jack, this is Mark"—he gestured to the redhead—"Bob"—the guy with glasses—"and Wade," who was the other brunette. More guys.

"Hi, I'm Jack," He replied simply, shaking each of their hands in turn. When he shook Mark's hand, however, he saw the man's expression flicker, though it returned to normalcy in a heartbeat. Working with other people was tedious, Jack had to admit, but the job paid well, so he was willing to put up with it for the sake of money.

He sat at the end of the row, as far away from the others as he could get. Though, that wasn't far. The screen at the head of the room flashed blue for a moment before turning on and displaying a picture of a building. Seemingly ignoring this picture, the host began to speak.

"Thank you, all, for coming to this briefing. It will be the longest conversation I plan to have with you, and hopefully we can get most of the talking out of the way now, rather than later. At the end, I'll speak personally to you all if you request so.

"The broad breakdown is this: there's a company that we need eliminated. They've got about five hundred personnel, and two hundred of those are well-trained combatants. The organisation is led by five people, one of whom is the- eh… ringleader," he stopped to cough slightly. "What we're assigning you to do is take down these main five, and the leader. They'll all be heavily guarded, which is why we've hired so many of you. It's to be a quiet affair, preferably no huge explosions, just an 'in and out' job is expected.

"With that being said, do whatever you need to to get rid of them." He smiled. "We've hired you all for specific reasons, so, even though I know you already know about it, I'm going to reiterate what we're expecting from each of you.

"Felix, and your group, will be in charge of support and information. Mark and your group, you're the main force in the operation, as you'll be handling anything loud, and acting as backup for Jack. And Jack, you're, of course, going to be handling the bare bones of the operation; getting rid of the people themselves. Though"—he chuckled—"doesn't mean you're running it. You're all a team for now, so establish an order within yourselves, or don't, but figure that stuff out early on. Just normal protocol." He turned to the screen like it was the first time he'd noticed it. Looking at it closely, Jack saw it was a fairly modern skyscraper, with a lot of glass panels decorating the outside.

"This is the building that most of their meetings are held at. While it wouldn't be wise to attack it directly, as hundreds of personnel swarm the building, it's a place you need to be aware of." The slide switched images, to a large, but modest, building.

"This is the house of the ringleader himself," the host proceeded to detail the house and the man himself. Jack found himself dipping in and out of attention, a bad habit that never ceased to irritate him. When the host had explained everything he deemed necessary (at least two hours later), he told the group that they'd be staying in a hotel fairly close to the building, and that they'd booked three rooms; one for Mark's group, one for Felix's, and one for Jack. After the speech ended, everyone rose from their seats and began to talk with each other.

——

Mark stood as the rest of them did, but didn't approach their host.

"So what do you think guys?" He asked Bob and Wade, who stood with him.

"Is there much to think about? It's a job, is all," Wade said, shrugging.

"Well… true. Reckon it'll be hard?"

"Only as hard as everyone else makes it." Wade laughed. Mark responded in kind, chuckling.

"Hey, Mark, didn't you say that the guy you had a grudge against had green hair?" Bob said suddenly, looking at the man standing to the side of the room, not talking to anyone. Jack, his name was.

"Yeah, he did. I doubt that's him, though, there's heaps of people who dye their hair. It'd be silly to assume it was him." Mark said, shrugging.

"Are you going to talk to him?" Wade asked.

"Maybe eventually. We'll all be spending a fair bit of time with each other, though, so I'm sure that can come later." Even as he said that, he had the urge to go up to the strange man. Despite that he'd brushed it off, he couldn't help the bad feeling he had seen him before. Pretty soon, he told Bob and Wade that he was going over to talk with him.

"You're Jack, right?" Mark smiled at the guy.

"Yeah," was the only reply he got. Mark searched for something he could ask the man.

"How long have you been in the business?"

"About ten years." Jack replied.

"Wow, that's a long time for someone so young," Mark laughed, Jack only looked like he was in his twenties. The green-haired man didn't reply.

"You know, you look a lot like someone I met before. Where do you work?" Mark mentioned, but Jack seemed reluctant to reply.

"Here," he said.

"… Okay, where do you work normally? Or, who for?" Jack sighed before replying.

"Anyone who hires me."

"So you're a freelance, then?"

"Pretty much."

Mark paused again before asking, "Sorry, I have to ask, did you ever work in the Mafia?"

Jack looked suspiciously at him. "Why?"

"Just curious."

"Does it have anything to do with the person I supposedly look a lot like?"

"… Maybe."

It took Jack a long time to answer. "I worked with the Celiasi family " Mark felt his blood run cold at the words. A long moment passed before his lips separated slightly. A soft laugh escaped his throat, and he noticed that he almost unconsciously pulled out the gun that hung at his waist and aimed it at Jack's head.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing, asshole?" Jack swore.

"You know, I didn't believe it was actually you. I mean, the green hair must have been a coincidence, right? Turns out it wasn't. Imagine meeting _you_ , here of all places," Mark laughed, the sound tainted with insanity. "Do you know how long I've been waiting to kill you?" The whole room was silent.

"I've got lots of people who want to kill me," Jack said quietly. "Get in line."

Mark grinned, "Nah, I'd rather cut the line." His finger pressed against the trigger, about to pull, when he felt something heavy knock against the back of his head, and his vision began to swim. He pulled the trigger in a last ditch attempt to kill Jack, before his vision turned black and he fell to the ground, unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I think I'm going to try uploading once every two days or so. Hopefully all the alarms I've set will come in handy. ^_^  
> I really appreciate comments, criticism is very welcome (just no blatant hate please).


	3. Drunk games.

When Mark woke, he had a whole three seconds of peace before rage erupted within him.

" _Where the fuck is he?!_ " He screamed, barely even registering that he was alone in the same room that he'd spent the two nights before the meeting. Bob and Wade both burst into the room with worried looks.

"Calm your shit, Mark! He isn't here," Wade said, his worry turning into annoyance.

"Tell me where Jack is," Mark demanded.

"No way, you're batshit crazy right now. What the fuck is wrong with you? We have to work with Jack now, you're not allowed to kill him," Bob said, irate.

"Guys… I have to do this. I have to kill him." Mark said, nearly begging but not quite. Wade sighed.

"Mark, do whatever you want once the job is over, but you have to work with him for now. If you screw this up, you know firsthand what Declan will be like," Wade warned. "We were sent here to act as an offering. If we can't do this job, Declan won't be the only one gunning for our heads."

Mark gritted his teeth. "I don't think you understand. I've been looking for this guy for nine years. _Nine fucking years,_ and now I've _finally_ found him, and you want me to _let him go?_ "

"Yes! Is that so hard to do? Even if it's just until the job is finished. Then, you can do whatever you want." Both Wade and Mark were fuming, neither willing to back down. A long minute of silence ensued, before Mark spoke.

"He murdered my brother. That's not something I can forget about. Killing him has been the _only_ thing that has kept me alive and sane."

"You sure aren't acting sane right now."

"Wade… don't get in my way."

"Or what, you'll kill me too? I'm not that weak, Mark, nor am I going to let a friend drive himself into the ground over something that happened years ago."

"It's not something I can brush off so easily! He took my only family away from me and left like it never happened."

"He didn't kill you though, did he? Mark, we've all lost family. Most of the people I know don't have any left, or none that they keep in contact with. We've all had tragedy. We move on." Wade's voice was deadly quiet. Mark looked away, slightly ashamed all of a sudden. A heavy silence settled on the room, but after a while Mark relented.

"I can't promise anything," Mark's voice grew quiet, "but I won't kill him straight away." Wade sighed, realising that was the best he was going to get.

"Anyway, the other four are already on their way to the hotel. They left about an hour ago," Bob stated.

"I'll go get ready," Mark said, defeat in his voice.

——

Jack had already set up in the hotel, glad that he had a room to himself. He'd hidden small weapons around the room, just in case he needed it, and his laptop was sitting on the desk charging. It was a small room, with only a single bed and not much moving space, but it didn't bother Jack. A backpack of clothes was dumped in the corner.

His mind drifted to the day before, and he found he had a nasty taste in his mouth. He'd remembered who Mark was; the younger brother of the man who had sacrificed his life for his sibling. Jack hadn't learnt their names at the time, but Mark unmistakably looked the same. The only reason the event stood out in his mind was because of the punishment he'd gotten later for the trouble he had caused. Jack had regretted leaving the man alive when that happened, and the regret was surfacing again now. He knew if Mark ever seemed like a serious threat, he'd have to end the redhead's life, whether Jack wanted to keep the job or not.

Still, he was too tired to think of such things for now. He'd rather finish the job first, and then worry about disagreements afterwards. Whatever beef Mark still had with him could come later.

A knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts. "Come in."

Felix opened the door, smiling at Jack tentatively. "We're having breakfast, want to join?" The smell of bacon drifted through the doorway. Jack hesitated, but his hunger made him stand up and nod at the blond.

"Sure," he said.

"Great. We've got waffles, cereal, bacon, eggs, and yogurt. Also anything that's been pre-stocked in the cupboards. Feel free to look." Felix led him into their room, which was sizeably bigger than his own. The bedroom was sectioned off from the lounge and kitchen room which everyone sat in. Jack took a plate from a stack, a put some bacon and a waffle on it. He filtered through the cupboards one by one, and found a packet of toffee, which he took to eat later. The three who sat on the lounge weren't paying much attention to him; not outwardly at least. He sat in a small lounge chair that was separate from the main lounge, and started to eat.

"So, Jack, what do you do normally?" It was Ken who had spoken. Was that a go-to question to ask that?

"I work for anyone who hires me," Jack said simply. "What about you?" He tried to direct the conversation away from himself.

"Me? I work with explosives, and dabble in poisons," Ken said it like a thing to be proud of.

"Cool." Jack tried to leave the conversation there, but then Felix piped up.

"Yeah, and Cry here is a hacker. I work with him as an informant."

"Felix's got connections that he uses to get information," Ken smiled.

"Nice." Jack replied, his voice dripping with an aura of 'I don't care.' Hearing his tone, the two dropped any attempt at conversation with him, and started talking with Cry amongst themselves. That suited Jack much better.

He was just finishing breakfast and putting his plate away when noise sounded in the corridor outside.

"I think that's Mark's group," Felix said, opening the door and looking outside. His expression brightened at whatever he saw. "Hey guys, we're having breakfast, dump your stuff and then come on in!" He called to someone.

Jack watched the door carefully; about a minute later three more entered. Bob, Wade, and Mark filed through the entrance, and the two foremost looked happy about the food. The lattermost, however, had a foul expression on his face, which only deepened when he laid eyes on Jack, who held the stare for a while before Mark averted his gaze.

"You feeling better, Mark?" Felix asked, his caution audible.

"Yeah. Sorry about before." It was painfully obvious that Mark wasn't sorry at all, but no one called him out. A moment of silence followed before Bob moved to get food, Wade and Mark soon doing the same. After the clattering of plates had settled down to a steady sound of people eating, more silence ensued.

"So, who does your team work for normally?" Felix asked, his question directed at the whole group.

"The Celiasi family," Bob replied. Jack stiffened and glanced at the group, finding Mark staring at him. This time Jack was the one who looked away.

"Mafia, right? They're not too far away from here, if I remember correctly," Felix said, nodding. "Why are you working here, then?"

"Our boss recently made an alliance with Deed, so we were sent to work for him temporarily as insurance," Wade said simply. It sounded dodgy to Jack.

"Neat, are you guys all combat?" Felix asked.

"Yeah. I use guns mostly, though, and Bob uses his fists."

"And feet," the brunette added.

"What about you, Mark? Any specialities?" Mark looked up as his name was called by Felix.

"Not really. I'll use anything. Though usually I use more of the powerful firearms." He shrugged. Felix nodded, and once again the talking ceased.

——

Mark exhibited the most control he'd ever employed that morning. The whole time he imagined his hands wrapped around Jack's throat, or a knife through his belly. He could barely look away from the Irishman, images from that night blaring in his mind. When breakfast was finished, he went back to his room along with Bob and Wade, and as soon as the door closed, he chucked a chair across the room and nearly punched a hole in the wall. Wade was yelling at him again, but Mark couldn't hear him. Blood coursed through him, all his muscles tensed, wanting to rip something apart with his bare hands. Slowly the urge faded, and as he came back to reality he realised he was standing with his arms folded over the kitchen bench, hands clenched around and nails digging into his elbows. As he pulled away from the bench, his arms stung. Wade and Bob had exited into the bedroom section, both on their double bed which they had decided to share. Mark sat down on his own bed, head in his hands. Guilt for what he'd done washed over him.

"Guys… if I do something awful, or try to… stop me, please," he asked. He hated saying the words, felt the shame that he wasn't able to think clearly, but knew he had to. He couldn't run the risk of doing something in a fit of rage over Jack that he would surely regret afterwards. They looked at him for a moment before Bob replied.

"Yeah, Mark. We'll help you, preferably before things get that bad." His tone was serious, and Wade nodded his assent. Mark felt overwhelmingly grateful to have such loyal friends.

 

The day was slow, everyone holed up in their rooms after breakfast, and didn't come out till Felix burst into their room (again) with a bottle of alcohol in his arm and saying something about a 'bonding exercise' late in the evening. Mark looked up as this happened, and he was averse to leaving the room, but Bob and Wade seemed excited for the alcohol, so he decided to join in for their sakes.

Jack was already sitting off to the side in Felix's room, looking fairly disgruntled at the situation. Mark felt the anger well up within him, but he forced it down and tried to ignore the man. He sat next to Bob and Wade on one half of the couch, while Felix, Ken and Cry sat on the other half. 

"So," Felix announced, "since everyone's obviously a bit tense, we all need to relax and get to know each other." He paused and smiled, his voice full of excitement. "To accomplish this, we are going to play a few _games_ with each other." Mark felt a tinge of dread at these words.

"We've got the choice between Never Have I Ever; a game where you tell a story, and the others have to guess if it's a lie or not; and Charades! Also, anything else you guys can think of. You'll have to drink each game," Felix was grinning as he spoke.

"What about Would You Rather?" Wade suggested, seeming to be chipper about the idea.

"Yeah, we can do that too. First, though, a quick round of beer pong to get everyone nice and drunk." Felix laughed evilly. He got up and brought out some plastic cups, and gave permanent markers and a cup to each person, telling them to write their name on it. Once they had, he set them up on the coffee table and handed Cry the ping pong ball.

"If you miss, you drink, if you get it in, the name on the cup which you got in has to drink. Have at it, Cry," he laughed. The masked man gave it a shot, and got it in. Felix read out the name on the cup, which was Wade. Ken gave him a bottle of beer and Wade took a gulp. _Oh, this is going to be fun,_ Mark thought with a bad feeling.

Despite his initial apprehension, however, after a few drinks he found he was actually having fun. For the first time since he'd seen Jack's face, he felt relaxed and happy. He'd been one of the unlucky ones to have his cup in the middle of the lot, so he ended up drinking almost all of his beer before he even had a go at throwing. When he did, he missed the cups entirely twice (Mark decided to blame that on the drink). Once everyone had gotten bored of beer pong, they moved onto Wade's suggestion.

"I'll go first. Would you rather…" Wade thought for a second, "kiss a cow, or kiss a pig?"

" _Bo-ring,_ " Bob called, stretching the 'o' sound.

"Shut up and answer, Bob. I'm going with cow." Wade scowled at his friend. Bob smirked and chose pig. Mark thought before saying that he'd rather a cow. Felix and Ken both answered pig, but Cry voted cow. Jack, having been forced to answer, chose pig—cows were grotty, apparently.

"Okay, so," Felix paused to tally the votes, "we got three 'cows' and four 'pigs'. Anyone who voted cow has to take a drink!" Felix laughed, and Mark took a swig of his beer, along with Cry and Wade.

"Next one, I'm going! Would you rather walk on a bed of nails or hot coals?" Felix chirped. Everyone thought for a while, before they cast their votes, and the blond counted how many for each side.

"So, we've got two for 'nails' and five for 'hot coals'. Jack and Cry, you guys are drinking!" Felix laughed, watching as Cry grumbled inaudibly, and Jack silently took a sip. They continued, drinking well into the night, switching between games whenever one got boring. Jack always passed when it was his turn to ask a question or perform the activity, which they all complained about but didn't pressure him.

The night ended cheerfully, and everyone went to bed thoroughly drunk. Through his inebriety, Mark knew he'd be having a godawful morning the next day, but went to sleep happily after throwing up in the toilet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks guys so much for the positive reviews, it's been really motivational. I won't lie, this chapter was mostly filler, but necessary for future events. Thanks for reading!


	4. Eavesdropping like a pro.

Two days after they arrived, and they'd accomplished nothing. Jack knew it took time for Cry to get access to certain places, and for Felix to contact people, but it frustrated him. Everyone but Cry—who was busy hacking, or something like that—had spend the previous day trying to get over their hangovers from the night before, and mostly doing nothing. Even Jack, who had held back and barely sipped when it was his turn, had found himself with a pounding head the day after. Now it was the following day and everyone was waiting for news on what their first move would be. They didn't have to wait long.

At about seven a.m., Ken came into Jack's room, and told him they were assembling in his room. Taking his time to finish his cereal, Jack made his way into the room where the other six already sat.

"Now that everyone's here, I'd like to tell you all I've found a small lead," Cry said, and Jack realised it was the first time he'd heard the man speak properly. At the news, Jack felt relief that he'd be doing things now, instead of perpetually sitting in his room.

"Like I said, it's nothing big, but after hacking into security cameras—I could only get access to certain ones—I found one of our targets' house, though. His name is Robert Bars. The problem is we can't kill him at his house, he's got security on the inside. I'll track him for the next few days and see where he goes. The only problem is that there aren't many cameras I can look through, so if he goes out in a direction I can't follow, then, well, I can't follow him.

"Even so, I have a solution. If we could get a few eyes on the scene, as in _real_ eyes, they'd be able to follow him," Cry seemed to think this was the best idea.

"But he'll go out in a car for sure, most of the time. He wouldn't walk around town casually, being such an important person," Mark said, scoffing at the last sentence.

"Yeah, well, give me some time to watch the house. I might be able to pick out if there's a certain time that he always leaves the house." Cry had a thoughtful expression. "For now, though, I'd still like people to scout out the house. One person alone might be a bit suspicious, but three or four is too noticeable, so let's go with pairs." Cry looked over to Jack.

"Jack has to go, since the guy at the meeting said he'd be doing the assassinations themselves. Who else wants to go?" Everyone hesitated, before Bob piped up.

"I can go, I'm good in hand-to-hand, so if we get in a pickle I'll be able to help without using guns," he said, shrugging and looking at Jack.

"That's fine with me," Jack nodded. It wasn't exactly fine to be honest, but he wasn't going to argue. He'd have preferred to go alone, if given a choice.

"Alright, it's settled then, now let me show you his face." Cry pulled out some folded pages from his pocket and spread them on the table.

 

After a little more discussion about Bars' face, what Cry would look into, and how Felix was working on getting info about their targets, Jack and Bob decided to go out and look at the house. After all, no time like the present, right? Half an hour later Bob said bye to the crew, and joined Jack in waiting for the taxi they had booked outside the hotel building. When he got there, they gave the taxi driver the address of a restaurant near Bars' house, and within half an hour they had arrived. The pair waited till the taxi was gone before nonchalantly walking down the street, stopping to browse shops till they were close to the house and could identify it.

It certainly was a large house, but not the biggest on the street. No guards stood outside it, but shadows cast on the windows indicated that the house wasn't empty. It was a two-storey, and had a large wooden door at the front, four windows and a small balcony on the second floor. On the left side was a larger balcony on the same floor, and Jack caught a glimpse of the backyard, but couldn't make out how big it was. On its right side wasn't much besides seven windows, four on the bottom floor and three on the higher level. A small entrance to a basement lay on the right side, but appeared tightly locked. Jack mumbled this information to Bob, though the latter could see this for himself.

They observed this as they walked past the house, not stopping outside it, and travelled a while up the next street before turning back and walking past it again. There wasn't much to see from the outside, particularly when they couldn't even look at the backyard. To avoid suspicion, they stopped at a coffee shop and ordered a drink before calling a taxi.

 

Once they got back, Bob explained the layout of the exterior to the group, and more discussion followed about whether to continue looking at the house, or leaving it till Cry or Felix found something. In the end, it was decided that they'd go again tomorrow, see if anything changed, or if they could get a different angle on the house and try to see into the backyard.

The next day Jack and Bob were on their way to the house in a taxi when Felix abruptly called them.

"Guys, get your driver to change the destination to the main street of town, now. I'll tell you why once you've done it." It was Bob who had the phone, so he quickly made the change, and returned to the call.

"Okay, I did it. Now, why?" he asked.

"Cause Cry just saw Bars going there. This might be an opportunity."

"Alright, we're on it." After putting the phone away, Bob told Jack quietly that he'd explain after they got out of the taxi.

Once they were out, he explained to Jack what Felix had said as he looked around the street for Bars. Bob nudged him hard in the side and nodded his head towards the area outside a place called the Swan Restaurant, where the man himself stood and was talking to the waitress before entering.

"Let's go," Jack mumbled to Bob, and the two walked casually to the venue, asking one of the waitresses for a table on the top floor, as Jack had seen Bars go up. Once they were there, they picked an empty table reasonably near to Bars, but not too close. The pair sat down, and Jack realised they probably looked like a couple now. It didn't particularly phase Jack, but he felt the attention they were drawing and wondered why there hadn't been any girls hired. It would have made things so much easier.

They'd been given the menu and were deciding what to order—purely for show—when Jack noticed a man walk up the stairs and sit down with Bars. He was younger than Bars, who looked about thirty, and had a cheery smile on his face as he sat down. Bars' face similarly lit up, and with all the smiles it didn't look like a business relationship. _So, either friends, family, or lovers,_ Jack thought. His question was answered when the man put his hand over Bars', and held it. _…Fuck, now I've got to eavesdrop on a few lovebirds._ He sighed, leaning his head on his palm before noticing the waitress coming to take their order. Bob asked for the pasta meal, while Jack took the chicken satay.

Jack tried to listen to their conversation, but the restaurant had become busier and it was getting harder.

"How has George been?" He heard Bars ask.

"Goodness … hasn't been … differen… but you know …orried …" Jack tried to glue the pieces of the conversation he could hear together, but noises from the rest of the venue blocked out parts of it and distracted him. After more listening, he found it utterly irrelevant and relaxed his attention, absentmindedly chatting with Bob as he watched the pair out of the corner of his eye.

"Are you going to eat, Jack?" Bob asked, faking concern.

"Sorry, I'm tired." Jack replied, eating hurriedly to get it over with quickly. While eating, Bob suddenly nudged Jack with his foot.

"Oi, Jack, Bars is getting up." He said quietly, and Jack stopped eating calmly, taking a sip of his water before glancing at the two. Bars indeed was out of his chair, saying something before heading away from the table. Another glance and Jack saw he was walking to the restroom.

"Sorry, Bob, I need to go to the toilet. Wait for me," he said, standing and following Bars. He found that the toilet, however, had people inside, and Jack knew he couldn't pull anything here—not without killing at least five other people, and not without some screaming. So Jack refrained from doing anything, and went back to his table before telling Bob quietly that they probably wouldn't have any luck that night.

About fifteen minutes later Jack heard Bars talk loud enough for him to hear. "Well, I think I'd better head back home now," he chuckled. "Where do you want to meet tomorrow night?"

"Maybe we could meet at the Mexican place across the road," the other replied. Bars nodded, and once he and his male companion had left, Jack and Bob followed suit a few minutes afterwards.

 

After telling the group what had happened, they all agreed that Jack and Bob should go again the next night. Jack spent the whole day waiting for the evening to come, wasting his time away by playing with his knives and browsing the Internet on his phone.

When the afternoon finally came, he went and found Bob—which surprised the rest of them—and made sure he was ready. Cry confirmed when Bars left his house, and Jack ordered a taxi quickly afterwards.

The Mexican place was nice, but Jack didn't appreciate the dim lighting. If it was dark, he'd be fine, if it was bright, he'd have also been fine, but instead it was _dim_ , which irked him. They'd settled into a place close to Bars and the same guy from the last night, but a little further away. Jack and Bob only had drinks this time, though no alcohol.

In retrospect, the night had been about as boring as waiting for it to come, even when Bob went into the toilet half a minute after Bars' companion, he came back out and shook his head ever so slightly. Jack couldn't stand boredom, he felt like he should have been moving around, getting his blood pumping. But he couldn't, and they ended up going back home again without having made any real progress. The only thing they got was the next meeting place: a local fine dining place.

That night, Jack decided he'd start going for runs. All the bottled up energy he had was wearing him down, and running used to be something he did way back when. He didn't end up getting back from his run till past midnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm stuck on an island with no internet (aside from one cafe which I'm using now) for six days, so uploading might just get a bit irregular. But I'll still do my best to get a chapter up. Thanks for reading ^_^


	5. Walking into a bar like…

Jack was prepared for another night of boredom, but as Cry watched his computer screen at the camera view of Bars' house, he found that it was well past the usual departure time, and it didn't seem like the man was ever going to leave.

"Did you guys get it wrong? Was it maybe for Sunday dinner, and not Saturday?" Felix asked, concerned.

"No, we didn't get it wrong," Bob defended.

"Maybe he already left?" Ken suggested.

"I've been watching for ages and he hasn't gone anywhere," Cry argued.

"You might have gotten it wrong, we should go to the place anyway," Jack said.

"Yeah, let's go now," Bob agreed.

"I'll call you guys if I see anything," Cry said, nodding.

 

Cry hadn't been wrong, however, and having sat at the venue for two hours now, Jack felt it was time to leave.

"Bob, they're not coming, we should go," Jack urged. It had started to rain a few minutes ago, and now it was bucketing. Jack had a bad feeling—or maybe it was the flashing sky setting him on edge.

"Alright, let's leave." Bob stood and went to pay for the meal they'd had. So far they'd taken turns paying for the food and taxi, since it was too much trouble to split the bill each time. Since Bob was paying for the meal, Jack rang the taxi, but after telling the person his address, they notified Jack there was a traffic block near him due to the rain, so they wouldn't be able to pick him up within an hour. Alternatively, he could meet them a few blocks away and down the next street in ten minutes.

Jack looked at the rain outside and was reminded he didn't have an umbrella, but no way in hell was he going to wait an hour. Jack agreed to the alternative meeting point, and shortly told Bob the situation. He looked apprehensive, but agreed, since there appeared to be eaves that would keep them dry along the way. And there was, till they turned down the street and saw the shops stopped, along with the shelter. The nearest dry spot was a bus stop halfway down the road.

All they could do was run, honestly. But even as Jack was running, he could feel the rain soak into his hair and clothes. He swore under his breath. When they got to the bus stop, Jack saw Bob was similarly drenched, though somehow even more than Jack was. Maybe he'd been slower. Either way, they both stood there, waiting for a taxi that ended up taking twenty to get there. When it did, they sat on the dry seats of the taxi happily, not caring for the taxi driver's urges to use towels. He eventually gave up, sighing, and asked them where they were going, driving off when they told him the destination.

 

The next day, Bob announced he was sick. Technically he didn't announce it, though, since he was bedridden and could only cough, but everyone got the picture. Jack wondered how pitiful the man's immune system must have been, but Bob's refusal to have a hot shower the night before must have had a fair bit to do with it.  
The only difficulty Jack had with Bob being sick was that now he had no one to go with in the evening to watch Bars. Felix and Cry were busy, and Ken offered to go, but he'd be near-useless in a fight, so it was either Mark or Wade.

"I'll be honest in saying that I'm not terribly good at fistfights," Wade stated frankly. "And I think guns at this stage are a bit obvious. We don't really want the rest of them to get any hints, and a bullet wound isn't inconspicuous in the least." He looked at Mark expectantly. It took a while for the redhead to say anything.

"Are you serious? Me?" Mark's eyes widened a little. "God, with _Jack_ , really?" he winced at the thought. Jack rolled his eyes.

"Get over it, pussy. I don't like working with someone who wants to kill me either," Jack said exasperatedly.

"Don't you fucking call me a pussy when you're a worse coward than I could ever be," Mark spat, irritated.

"Oh, is that so," Jack scoffed, "says the bitch who hasn't done one fucking thing the last, what, five days?"

"Of course I haven't done anything, you're hogging all the fucking jobs," He yelled, infuriated.

"What? You're fucking saying that when _you just said_ you _don't_ want to go with me? We're _offering_ , why aren't you _taking_ , then, fuck face?"

"Don't put words in my mouth you motherfucker, I never said that I wouldn't go," Mark growled.

"Oh you didn't have to say it, believe me," Jack laughed cynically.

"Don't fucking talk to me like that, fucking bastard, or I'll kick your motherfucking ass, fucker," Mark was cut off by Jack.

"Oh you'll do that, will you? I can say what I fucking want, bitch," Jack sneered, and at his words Mark leapt at him, hands going for Jack's neck. In an instant, Jack jumped out of the way and kneed Mark in the back, pushing him to the ground with a hard _thud_. Before Mark could move, Jack grabbed his hair, pulling his head up as he held a knife to the redhead's throat, knee still pressed into his back.

"Don't you fucking try that with me, shit face," Jack whispered in his ear. "You should feel grateful that I'm not going to slit your throat like I did to your fucking brother." Jack felt Mark freeze beneath him. He waited a full minute to let it sink in, before slowly standing up, deciding he'd messed with Mark enough.

Mark got up, pausing a moment before he whipped around and sent his fist straight for Jack's face. The latter flew backwards, stumbling before falling to the ground, his hand quickly pressing to his own face. Jack didn't say anything, but looked daggers at Mark as he sent Jack a hateful glare. Standing up, Jack chose not to retaliate. He suspected everyone else in the room thought he deserved it, and they were probably right.

"We'll skip it tonight, then," Jack said quietly, before leaving the room and going back to his own. He'd have to try and cover the bruise forming on his cheek.

——

Oh _god_ , that had felt so good. Mark had waited his whole life to give Jack that punch—though it would have been better followed by some kicking and maybe a few cuts to the face. He didn't regret it in the slightest, and although no one dared to talk about the incident afterwards, he knew they thought Jack had gone too far as well. His breath tingling the side of Mark's face as Jack spoke, the cold blade pressed to his throat and the hand that dug into his scalp weren't nearly as bad as what he had said. He'd brought his brother into this, and _oh, fuck, Thomas… Shit,_ Mark had started thinking about it again. He'd tear up at this rate.

Now that the euphoria of the blow had worn off, however, Mark was left in a foul mood, and he doubted he'd be able to look at the demon's face without loosing his head again for a good long time. Wade had told him sternly afterwards that he couldn't do that again, no matter what, but Mark knew that would be hard—hell, more like impossible. He itched to just tear the man apart regardless of responsibilities and the job.

That evening, Cry still watched the camera but told everyone that Bars wasn't coming out of his house that night either, and that it was probably because it was bucketing rain outside again. Jack hadn't left his room since the incident, even though Felix went in and asked Jack to come out for lunch, and then dinner, apparently the green-haired man had declined both times.

The next day, Jack didn't come to breakfast. Mark had no idea what he was doing for so long cooped up in his room, since Felix said he'd been in there the whole time. And Mark certainly wasn't going to ask Jack to come out—no, he'd prefer if the man stayed and rotted in there. Still, it wasn't like that was going to happen, and Jack ended up joining them for dinner.

Along with everyone else, Mark wondered how Jack had managed to make the bruising disappear, before Jack noticed and told them it was makeup. Mark was a little ticked off he couldn't see what he'd done to Jack's face, but didn't want to make any kind of contact with the bastard, so he didn't say anything the whole meal.

"Are we going, or are you chickening out again, Mark?" Jack asked quietly.

"What was that, bastard?" Mark growled.

"A question."

"It's fine, I'll go," Wade interrupted with a cautious tone.

"No, no need. I'll go," Mark insisted, glaring coolly at Jack.

"Whatever you say, princess," Jack sighed. Mark was about to answer angrily when Cry interrupted.

"Either way, you still have to wait for me to tell you when to go," he said sternly. Jack and Mark fell silent.

An hour after dinner, Cry called to them. "Bars has left his house, but I don't think anyone knows where he's going. It seems to be the same general area, however, so get a cab quickly and head after him," he ordered. Jack nodded. Mark phoned the company they'd been using immediately, and soon they were both in the car together and driving to the main street in town.

They spotted Bars' car halfway there, and directed the driver wherever his car turned. But as they got to their usual destination, Bars didn't stop, but instead went further, down another street. Despite that there were only houses around, Bars got out there—Mark and Jack went a fair bit further—and started walking. He looked awful, a gaunt face making him look pale in the street light. Mark vaguely wondered what had happened, but then realised he didn't care. He and Jack waited for a few minutes to see where Bars would go, and he ended up turning down a side street that looked a bit dodgy, till Mark looked and realised what was at the end of the street—a club called _Grinding Greasy_. Alarm bells started going off inside of Mark's head. _Um,_ he thought, _we're not actually going in there, are we?_

Well, apparently they were.

——

Jack could have laughed aloud at Mark's face as they went into the gay bar. Who would have known that he'd still be uncomfortable in places like those?

A minute after Bars entered Jack went in after him, and Mark had no choice but to follow. Inside, it was ridiculously crowded, and Mark had to shove his way through to keep Jack in eyesight. When Jack abruptly stopped walking, Mark hurried to get to him.

"What the hell are we doing here?" Mark hissed.

"Following Bars, obviously. The only problem is he's just hired an escort for the night, and I don't think we're allowed in. It'd be the perfect opportunity, though…" Jack thought hard for a moment, while Mark stood by, looking at him incredulously.

"I think we should try getting in," Jack decided. "It's risky, but we could play it off as a jealous attempt at getting the person who he hired." He looked at Mark. "Only one of us could do it though. You up for it?"

Mark's face went slack for a few seconds. "You want me to go in to two men making love and kill them both, then get out without being caught in this crowded place?"

"You could always leave through a window," Jack pointed out.

"And if there's no window?"

"… I still want to try it. If you're not up for it, I'll go in," Jack shrugged. Mark bit his lip, but agreed, since he wouldn't care if anything happened to Jack anyway. Jack nodded, and headed off.

——

Jack didn't care much for gay bars, if he was going to be honest. It didn't make him uncomfortable, but it wasn't to his tastes. And, although he'd wanted to make Mark go just to see him squirm, he'd ended up going, because there was no way Mark would be reliable in that situation (and Jack was supposed to do the assassinations anyway).

Slipping through the crowd, Jack went over to the door he'd saw Bars enter through. He laid his hand on the door handle and opened it. _Shit,_ he thought, seeing the corridor behind it that led to more doors on either side. He couldn't tell which one Bars would be in—at least, not until he heard the muffled sounds of moaning. He listened to each door, but found that three of them had noises coming from them. Just as he was trying to see through the cracks of the doors, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Excuse me, sir, if you want to hire one of the employees, you won't find them here," the man who had spoken was a bouncer, and Jack immediately backed out.

"Oh, no, sorry, I don't need… that," Jack confirmed, trying to exit the hallway.

"Sir, if you're going to be loitering in here, I'll have to show you the exit."

Jack cursed in his mind, _we finally get a good chance to kill him and they want me to leave? Fuck._ "Oh don't mind me, I'll get out of your hair," Jack said hurriedly, backing out of the hallway.

"Sir, please come with me, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the premises."  
Jack realised he'd backed out of the wrong door, and was down the wrong end of the hallway, into another room which was thankfully empty.

"No, no, not necessary," Jack tried to assure the bouncer.

"Sir—" Jack ducked past him, and he wasn't sure if the bouncer was new, or tired, or couldn't be bothered, but he didn't catch him, and Jack took advantage of that and dove into the crowd, looking for Mark. Eventually he saw the redhead's hair peeking out above the crowd, and ran to him.

"Fuck, Mark, we gotta hide," Jack urged.

"What the fuck happened?" Mark asked incredulously.

"I went into the wrong, room, okay? A bouncer caught me and was asking me to leave."

"Let's leave, then."

"Are you batshit crazy? This is a great opportunity to knife the guy, and you want to leave?" Jack said, shocked.

"There's too many people, we'll never get away with it."

"Of course we will, and that's exactly why! Everyone's too busy hooking up to notice some guy collapsed—and there's plenty of other people who have collapsed as well."

Mark was still hesitating when Jack noticed a bouncer talking to the one who had caught him, and he looked away just as they turned their heads in his direction. One of them saw him, however, and both headed towards him. _Shit, shit, shit,_ he thought, grabbing Mark and pulling him into the crowd.

"What the hell are you doing?" Mark yelled at him over the noise.

"Hiding, bastard!" Jack pulled Mark down so their heads were below the top of the crowd, and dragged him to the far side of the room. Jack quickly tugged his hoodie over his head, and, in a last ditch attempt to disguise himself and Mark, pushed the redhead in front of him and pinned him to one of the only free spots against the wall.

"Stay still," he warned. _God I hope this works,_ he thought, before putting his elbows against the wall on either side of Mark's head. He then pushed himself against Mark, his face not even an inch from the redhead's. Standing completely still, their breaths mingled, and Mark turned his head away slightly. Jack's elbows slid down the wall, and his hands—purely for added realism—began to slide through Mark's hair. The redhead shivered under his touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I might end up slowing the releases down a bit so I can focus on writing good chapters. There's been a lot of distractions too, so time is limited. Thanks for reading ^_^


	6. By the moonlight, a kiss.

Jack could almost feel the bouncers' stares on the back of his head, but told himself it was his imagination, since they should have looked like any regular couple making out in a corner. Speaking of which, Jack remembered that it had been a minute or so and Mark was seeming a little stressed at their close proximity, so he decided to pull away. As soon as he did, Mark shoved Jack away from himself, his eyes averted. If Jack hadn't had such a loyal attachment to girls, he would have thought Mark hot in that moment, his hair messy from Jack's hands, apprehension coursing through his eyes and face, and his chest heaving, as if he'd just run a marathon. But, of course, the man had a death wish for him, so it dampened the sight.

"What the fuck was that," He growled at Jack, finally looking him in the eyes.

"That was a disguise. They would have found us," Jack retaliated, appearing irritated but a little satisfied at his flustered expression. "At least _I_ was trying to avoid them spotting us."

"I don't fucking care, you could have done something else!" Mark yelled, before walking off in a rage. Jack saw he was heading for the doors.

"Oh no you don't you fucking pussy," Jack yelled. "I did that so we wouldn't get caught! And now you want to leave and waste it?"

"Fuck you! You want me to ignore that and play if off like it was just a disguise?" Mark was bursting with anger.

"Yes, that's exactly what I want you to do, because that's exactly what it was! Don't try to read anything into it you fucking gay, do you ever think I'd get that close to you willingly?" Whatever Jack was saying was clearly going over Mark's head, and he couldn't stop Mark from running outside. Jack almost left him, but something made him chase after the redhead—maybe Jack just wanted to see his full reaction in all its hilarity.

——

Mark was still fuming. _How fucking dare he, he better burn in hell once I'm done with him,_ he swore, hands clenching and unclenching. That fucking bastard, getting that close to him… god, he could still feel Jack's filthy hands running through his hair. Now that they were back at the hotel, Mark refused to speak to Jack, and Jack did likewise—though they'd never really spoken before anyway.

The others had asked what happened, but neither of the two answered. Felix found out from Jack later that they'd gone into a bar and had been caught trying to get somewhere they weren't allowed, but Mark could tell the others knew there was a little more to it. Bob and Wade had tried to get information out of him, but when they didn't stop at his behest, he started throwing ceramic dishes and cutlery at them. He shouldn't have been surprised when he ended up doubled over, a fist sunk well into his gut. Mark quietly wondered if he was overreacting.

He managed to calm down eventually, and after they all had a late dinner, Mark felt a little more relaxed. Although, _relaxed_ might have been a strong word to use. Jack wasn't at the dinner either, for which Mark was relieved.

"You guys wanna open some bottles?" Felix asked, noticing the deepening frown on Mark's face. No one responded, but they all looked at the redhead.

"Do I…? No, I'm fine. Well, maybe one bottle. Just one though," Mark relented, taking it as Felix handed it to him. Just as he opened it, however, Cry walked into the dining side of the room—Mark actually hadn't noticed his absence prior to this—and told them to halt their alcoholic pursuits.

"Uh, I'm not sure if anyone's up for it, but right now Bars is sitting in the middle of a park, has a bottle of wine in his hand, and looks ripe for the picking," Cry told them. Mark looked at him, silently giving him a look that said, _are you actually being serious?_

Cry shrugged, and went back to his computer on the other side of the room. After half a minute, he called out again,

"Hang on, guys…" he fell silent again as he dragged his laptop to the coffee table they sat around. "Who the fuck told Jack to go down there?" They looked at the screen, and true to his words, a tiny figure with green hair to the left of the camera's view stood, talking to a man sitting on a park bench. All Mark could do was stare.

——

_(ten minutes ago)_

Jack shoved his exercise clothes on, and exited his room, leaving the hotel to go to the track he normally ran on. He'd been running a lap of a track that went through a small forest lately, using the time to cool his head and expend some energy. He couldn't tell if it was working or not, but it did make him feel tired afterwards.

As Jack finished running, and was coming up to the end of the track quickly, he noticed that through the trees in a nearby park, he could see someone sitting on a bench. He almost ignored it, but the back of the head looked so familiar that he took a second look—and he wasn't disappointed. It was Bars, and he seemed alone—so alone that Jack felt like sneaking up behind him and using his knife to give the man a quick . That was, however, a bit obvious, and Jack didn't want to reveal their existence so early in the game.

Still, he couldn't just leave, the prize was right there waiting for him—and holding a bottle, Jack saw. He looked around to see if there was anyone about, and when there didn't appear to be, he approached the man, footsteps heavy.

"Sorry sir, are you alright?" Jack asked, because there was nothing like a bit of concern to warm up to a person with.

Bars looked up at him, and Jack appreciated how awful his face was. His hair was matted, skin freckled and rough, cheeks gaunt, and eyes a little dead on the inside.

"Who are you?" Bars didn't answer the question, but then, Jack hadn't really expected him to. The Irishman shrugged in response.

"I was running when I saw you here." Jack pretended to notice the alcohol in Bars' hands for the first time. "Are you drunk? I hope you're not planning on spending the night out here, I don't think they appreciate loiterers."

"Go away, I don't need your advice," Bars said angrily. Jack made his face fall a little.

"Oh, I'm sorry. You must have had a hard time. Do you want to tell me what happened?" Concern oozed from his voice.

"None of your business, now go away," Bars repeated.

"That's alright, I've been having a bad day too." Jack sighed, ignored Bars' urges, and sat down on the bench next to him. "Mind if I talk to you for a bit? See, my boyfriend, he… yesterday I found him with a girl. I was shocked, as anyone would be, and told him we were over, but, you know, he…" Jack stopped, choking on his voice. "I'm sorry, I'll stop. You probably don't care for my problems, and it's nothing I should be telling strangers." Bars was looking at him curiously.

"No, it's fine, go on. I'm sorry for being rude earlier. You said you had a boyfriend?"

"Yeah, is that weird?" Jack figured the story would strike a chord with the gay man. "It's just… he came back, said he wanted one last time with me. I'd always loved him," Jack lowered his voice to a gasp, "but today…"

They were silent for a few seconds. Then Jack hurriedly said, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you something like that, it's got nothing to do with you—"

"That's fine. I- uh… can see you've had a rough day." Bars sympathised. Jack felt an ounce of pride that his story had worked.

"Yeah," Jack gulped, "It's been a bit of a roller coaster." He gave a shaky laugh.

"Do you want to talk more about it?" Bars prompted, but Jack shook his head.

"No, I've bothered you enough. But, what about you? You seem to be having it tough too, out here all alone."

"Oh, well, compared to you, I'm just sulking a little," Bars laughed tentatively.

"Don't say that, I'm sure you've got a lot on your mind. I'd love it if you told me," Jack put his hand on Bars' arm.

"It's nothing much, but today a guy I was in love with broke up with me. I'd been after him for months, and we'd just started dating this week, but already I'd screwed it up… I was upset, so I did something stupid. I ended up hiring a one night stand, can you believe it? And then I chickened out halfway through… and ended up here. I'm not sure how long I've been out here. Time kinda stopped mattering." Jack hadn't bothered to listen to his spiel, but smiled apologetically anyway.

"Wow, that's crazy…" Jack murmured. "Hey, did you want to walk a little? I think you could use some moving around." If he could, Jack wanted to drag him out of the open space of the park. "I was just running on this path, we could go down there if you want. It's peaceful."

"Oh, I dunno…" Bars seemed apprehensive.

"If… if you're uncomfortable, we don't have to… but, I'd like to get to know you a bit better…" Taking a stab at his only option, Jack looked at Bars in the eyes as he spoke.

"Well, I guess there's no harm…" Bars said, smiling a little. They started walking, and slipped into silence.

 _Well, I'm glad Mark didn't screw everything up with his idiocy._ Jack couldn't understand why he'd made such a big deal about it. Mark had always seemed awfully sensitive around him. _Well, no wonder,_ Jack laughed, remembering what had happened nine years ago.

"So what work do you do normally?" Bars' sudden question surprised him.

"Normally, huh?" Jack paused, debating how to answer. "Well, I guess the most accurate answer would be a waitress at the Crystal Shack." He picked a name from one of those he'd seen while following Bars. "But, uh… that hasn't been going to well," he laughed sombrely. Bars nodded, silent.

"What about you?" Jack asked in return. He saw Bars freeze up a little, but it quickly went away.

"Nothing much, I work as an executive at a local company." _Such a liar, Bars,_ Jack thought, nodding at the man's words.

Looking around, Jack noticed a lake with a flowing stream running out of it; part of the track was a bridge that went over it. Jack looked over at Bars, an idea coming to mind. The man glanced at him while Jack was staring, and Jack formed his mouth into a grin.

"Hey, Robert, I think we both need to loosen up. It's a warm night…" he laughed, and ran down to the edge of the lake. Taking his shirt off and kicking his shoes aside, Jack dipped his feet into the water. "Let's swim," he finished. Bars looked at him, a little shocked.

"It's warm, I swear," Jack assured, moving into the water. Soon he was up to his waist, then his abdomen. "Relax, come in with me!" He called. Bars' face quickly twisted into an involuntary smile, but, while he didn't pull off his own shirt, kicked off his shoes and came into the water. Jack could see Bars staring at his chest, but ignored it and grabbed the man's wrist, pulling him further in.

"Isn't this fun?" Jack laughed, diving into the water and surfacing with his hair wet. Bars' stare was quickly becoming unnatural. Jack took the opportunity as it came, and moved closer to the man.

"Are you… feeling alright?" he asked Bars, his voice low and soft.

"I'm feeling fine," Bars said quickly, but Jack knew otherwise.  
"Are you sure? We can get out, you know," Jack's voice was a whisper.

"No… I like it here." Bars moved closer to Jack, wrapping his hands around the back of Jack's neck, pulled him closer and brought him into a deep kiss.

Taken aback, Jack tried not to react, but instead began to slowly lower into the water, bringing the other man with him. Soon only their heads were above the water, and the kiss was still going. _God this fucker kisses terribly,_ Jack thought, but tried to imagine it was a girl… nope, his imagination was fucked.

"One question… how'd you know my name," Bars whispered through the kiss, at which point Jack merely smiled, and pulled Bars into the water, wrapping his own hands around Bars' neck, securing his grip.

Before Bars could react, he pulled away from the kiss, but kept the man's head below the water. Bars struggled furiously under the water, deprived of air, and Jack had to use both hands to keep him below. _Hurry up and fucking die, you asshole,_ Jack groaned. He was strong enough to hold him underwater, but the fucker was still a full-grown man. Water splashed, and Jack considered knocking him out, but wanted to leave as little evidence as possible. Then, eventually, the struggling stopped. He waited another minute, counting the seconds, before moving a hand to Bars' neck and checking for a pulse. It was still there, but slow and faint. Another minute, and Jack checked again. _Good enough,_ he thought, when the pulse was too weak to feel.

Jack got out of the water, leaving the body floating behind him, and slipped his dry shirt back on, though it was quickly soaked by his damp skin. He was glad it _had_ been a warm night, because even the slight breeze was making him chilly. Jack was sitting down to put his sneakers on when he heard footsteps behind him. Slightly terrified, he turned to see the person quickly, having forgotten in a moment of stupidity that he was still near the body, and looked awfully suspicious.

To his utter surprise, when he turned around, he saw Wade, staring in shock. And behind him—Mark. Jack swore.

"What are you guys doing here?" Jack asked.

"Wondering what you're doing here," Wade replied, humourless.

"Just getting rid of the first target," Jack replied simply. "Now you tell me why you're here."

"Because Cry saw you talking to Mr. Corpse in the park through one of his cameras."

Jack looked at Wade. "How much were you here for?" He asked carefully.

"Since you took off your shirt."

 _Shit,_ Jack thought. _Fuck, shit._

"What the fuck were you doing with that bastard, Jack?" Mark said, angry.

"Fucking killing him, that's what. What the fuck does it have to do with you?" Jack retaliated.

"You fucking made out with him, you whore!" Mark yelled. Wade shushed him, clearly irritated, and reminded them that there could be anyone around.

"Let's just get back to the hotel, alright? You guys can bitch at each other then. At least Jack got the first job done." Wade put an end to the conversation, and that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys for the break in posting. Hopefully I can leave a smaller gap with the next chapter. Anyway, thanks for reading ^_^


	7. An escape, for now.

Jack felt his nails dig into his palms, anger swelling inside him. Of course Mark told the rest of them as soon as they got back. That fuck face couldn't keep his mouth shut, so everyone had been informed about Bars' death, and Jack's so-called "methods". It's not like he seduced his targets regularly, or liked to, but fucking Mark acted like he was some fucking harlot. No one talked about it, though—except for Mark—and no one complained, because after all, he'd killed the guy, and that was all that mattered. Ken said the next day that he saw the story featured on the TV, but no connections had been made that there was a second person involved. Suspicions, of course, but nothing real. Wade had gone back soon after and made sure Jack's footprints were covered, and Bars' shoes were placed on top of the bridge.

In the day following the murder, Deed contacted them through his secretary. An email that Felix got told them that they'd done well, but didn't have to worry much about stealth anymore, and that they should contact his secretary about who they were going to target and any major things that had happened. They'd also been sent profiles on the people they had to kill—prompting bitter remarks from Felix and Cry about how they could have been told sooner, and how the information would have been better before they started the job. "Lazy assholes," was one term used frequently.

"Alright, so we've got Kynce Roule, May Elme, Drie Collum, and Peter Chrisk left. I'm not counting Robert Bars, since that's already done with. For now, I'll look into these four and get back on any that stand out. Look through the information yourselves," Cry stated, before leaving to his "Den" which was what they'd started calling his room, he so rarely left it.

Jack picked up one of the files that hadn't already been taken; Drie Collum. A man aged thirty-four, he was the head of the armed forces, had no known family, regularly went to a firing range, owned a small house on some street and hired no one to maintain it… Jack didn't bother reading the rest.

He put the folder down, sighing, and took another free one, scanning the front page. May Elme, apparently the "Diplomat" and head of trades, twenty-eight, had two daughters, no living husband, employed two housemaids and owned a chihuahua.

He figured he could look at the others later, so left the room, returning to his own. Nothing much happened for the rest of the day, and he refrained from running that night.

——

The following day, at about 4 a.m., Mark was awake. It was way too early for any person to be up, yet Mark was conscious all the same. And, for some reason, he was packing a suitcase. Just one suitcase, Wade had told him. He had been too sluggish to find out why, having been roused from sleep by Wade ten minutes earlier. As he packed he bitterly whined at Wade, and when he hopped in the taxi he was still wondering what the hell was going on. However, Mark had learned long ago not to question things like this, so he was forced to save his questions for later. When they got out at a harbour, a great cruise ship looming over them, he couldn't hold back.

"Wade, what are we doing here?" Mark's voice alluded to his tiredness even now, some hours after he'd awoken.

"Going on a cruise," Wade said simply, unloading their bags from the taxi and taking his own backpack, leaving Mark to tow the suitcase.

"Why are we going on a cruise?"

"Because it's the same cruise ship Kynce Roule is going on." Wade started to explain as they headed to a nearby building. "This morning Cry woke us up—well, everyone but you, Jack and Ken, 'cause no one could get you all out of bed. He told the rest of us that in about four hours from then, this ship right here was going to leave, and that Mr. Roule had booked a holiday on it. Thing is, Cry had only found out about it last night, so we didn't have much time to plan anything. But it's a great chance to get rid of the guy, so now we're making do," he finished, and Mark stared at him for a while.

"So it's just you and me?"

"Yeah."

Mark thought for a while. "At least we can do our own stuff now. Was Bob still feeling a bit sick?" He asked.

"No, he was feeling fine, but there was only two spots. Felix only just managed to convince a young couple that there was a better opportunity on the next, and better, cruise that left four days from now."

"Right," Mark felt a bit apprehensive, but convinced himself he should be relieved. Some time away from the group, and Jack in particular, would surely clear his head.

The pair checked in, and found they had to wait about an hour till their boarding call. Mark looked at the time, finding it to be 6:34 a.m. He took a seat on a nearby lounge, and ushered Wade to do the same.

When they eventually got on the cruise ship, they found themselves in Room 218, and also that Roule just "happened" to be in 212. After they quickly got unpacked, Wade handed him a breakfast menu that they could order from. Even as he took it, Mark felt a wave of tiredness wash over him, and after he'd looked at it and decided what he wanted, he told Wade. The latter went to order Mark's bacon and egg sandwich, and his own set of waffles.

Left alone in the room, Mark couldn't help but flop onto his bed, utterly exhausted, and fall asleep.

——

When Jack woke up, he had the strangest feeling about a dream he'd forgotten. Of course, he forgot almost all of his dreams that weren't nightmares, but this one felt a bit different. He brushed the thoughts aside and got up, pulling himself out of his pyjamas and into normal clothes. He didn't feel like seeing anyone, but the food was always at Felix's room, so his stomach gave him no choice but to go.

"Look who's awake now," Felix said as Jack walked into the room. The Irishman didn't reply. "You know, you sleep like a log," Felix added. "We tried to wake you up in the night but you wouldn't move. You might as well have been dead," he laughed.

"Why were you trying to wake me up?" Jack asked, slightly annoyed.

"'Cause Mark and Wade left this morning to go on a cruise," Felix told him. "Cry found out that Kynce Roule, one of our targets, is going on a holiday—leaving today. I secured two last-minute seats, and we decided during the night that Wade and Mark would go."

Jack nodded. "Alright," he said, partially uncaring and partially disturbed. "How long until they're back?"

"The trip lasts five days."

Jack hummed a response, grabbing cereal from the cupboard and pouring himself a bowl. "So they're taking care of Roule by themselves?" he asked, having started on his bowl.

"I'd hope so. If they can't kill a man on vacation, given five whole days, I'd be a bit more than worried," Felix joked, and Jack gave a small nod.

 

A few hours later, Felix called them all for a meeting. "Alright guys, I've found out some more stuff," he said, "and I'm thinking we should aim for May Elme next. Head of trades, she organises business deals with other companies, that kind of thing. All the shit you should have read in the files. Well, she goes to a cafe every morning for coffee, some daily ritual. Good news, I can get someone a position at that shop, but only one; Jack or Bob." Felix looked between the two, as if waiting for them to figure it out.

"They can do that later, there's more," Ken interrupted, almost anticipatedly.

Felix acquiesced, "Yeah, we also found out that the school that her two daughters go to is hiring a new counsellor, and Ken volunteered, since he's had a bit of experience… well, we felt he'd be best. We've sent his resume in and I'm pretty sure he'll get it since there's some good stuff in there."

"I really don't mind," Bob shrugged.

"Neither do I," Jack replied.

"Wanna flip a coin?" Ken suggested.

Jack sighed at the proposal. "Bob, why don't you do it. I can come into the cafe in the morning as a customer and be free to follow her around during the day."

"Sounds fine," Bob nodded. Felix clapped his hands together, and told them he'd get to it, and that they were free to relax for a while. Jack, not having much to do, went back to his room and got out his phone. He aimlessly flicked through the features, bored.

——

Mark didn't wake up till late the next morning, and when he did he found a strange lump on his head, and the beginnings of a bruise on his arm. When he asked, Wade told him unremorsefully that he'd tried to wake Mark up the previous night, and had resorted to throwing things at him. Somehow, Mark wasn't surprised, but the story didn't make him feel any more awake.

"What's the plan for today?" He asked Wade.

"No clue, I guess we'll scope out the territory." Wade suggested, shrugging.

"Alright then."

At about nine, Wade suggested they head out and look around, and see the facilities on the ship. It was a huge ocean liner, and Mark guessed it must have held about three thousand passengers. They scoped out the top floor, which was a carnival of swimming pools, water slides, a bar and outside lounge, beach chairs, and covered with a massive swarm of people. Mark groaned at the prospect of wading through the large crowd.

"How about we check the top floor at night or something? This doesn't seem like such a great idea," Mark commented.

"Yeah… that might be a good idea," Wade agreed, sighing.

 

At about mid-afternoon, having checked most of the place out, the pair went back to their room. Mark almost immediately fell back asleep on the lounge, until Wade woke him up about two hours later.

Once Mark had a few more bruises, and was awake enough to comprehend words, Wade spoke. "Get the fuck up, Mark. We're going out, alright? To follow Roule," he said, rushing Mark to get himself together so they could leave.

"What the hell, man? Do it yourself," Mark mumbled, irritated.

Wade was stubborn, "No way, if I suffer, you have to too." He told Mark that he was going out ahead of him, to catch up with Roule and make sure he stayed in sight. Mark didn't have much of a choice but to acquiesce, and miserably got ready, even after Wade had left. Mark got a phone call from him minutes later, where he told Mark that Roule had seated himself on the front deck, relaxing with a drink. Also, that Mark still had to come no matter what.

"For fuck's sake, can't a man sleep around here?" Mark muttered after he'd hung up the phone.

Ten minutes later he met Wade where instructed, and sat down next to him on a bench. "So where's Roule?" Mark asked, looking for the face among the fifty or so people around.

"Under the umbrella on that line of chairs over there, fourth one from the left end."

Mark looked, but when his eyes found the man, felt his heart stop for a full second. "Why the hell is his hair green?" Mark blurted. Wade looked at him strangely.

"I wouldn't have said _green_. It's more of a blue."

"He didn't have that in the picture!"

"No, he didn't. Plenty of people dye their hair, you included, is it really something you need to make a fuss about?" Wade sighed.

"No— well— it's just unexpected, alright?" Mark huffed.

"Sure, whatever you say."

Mark frowned at him, but fell silent. Minutes passed, and Roule did nothing but lie there and sip on his drink. _Why is it that he has to have green hair? Just to annoy me? Just to remind me of that motherfucking ass, is that why?_ he growled in his mind. _At least we're killing_ this _bitch._ Thinking of Jack made his stomach turn, and suddenly he didn't feel like being out on the deck at all, even more than before. The sun was almost down, but he felt hot, humid, irritated. He wouldn't ask to go back to their room, however, else Wade would never forgive him for being so petty and selfish. As such, he was confined to the metal seat, its cool surface biting into his warm skin.

"I think I forgot to mention it, but when we left the guys back at the hotel, Ken gave me some bugs," Wade told him quietly. "I pulled you out of bed here today so we can tag him. We should wait till he's in a bigger crowd, though."

It was the first Mark had heard about this plan, but decided that he was glad, since it meant they wouldn't have to leave their rooms as often.

"The usual types?" He asked, to which Wade replied with a nod, indicating to Mark that there was probably a sound device and a location one; maybe a few of each type.

It must have been half an hour of agonising stillness later when Roule eventually moved, seeming to have seen enough of the miles of ocean around them to finally go somewhere else. There were so many people, it didn't seem odd when Wade and Mark got up as well and headed in the same direction.

They followed Roule while he moved through the rooms, as he stopped to try a free food sample, then again to buy a muffin. After a while Mark just felt like it was sightseeing at that point—especially since Mark and Wade had already gone around and looked at everything. More hours of boredom later, dinner time rolled around. The pathways to the buffet hall slowly filled with people, but Roule didn't seem like he was going to eat, walking through the large room without taking any interest in the food.

On his way out, however, the entrance became even more crowded, and Mark saw the opportunity. He nodded at Wade, and watched as his friend pushed a few steps ahead of Roule, then acted like he'd dropped something. When Wade's head eventually resurfaced, he made his way back to Mark.

"All good," he assured the redhead.

"Where'd you put it?"

"Bottom of his shoe."

"His shoe? How did you even get under there?"

Wade shrugged, and grunted a response. "Let's go back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long guys, but I finally finished the next chapter. As always, thanks for reading ^_^


	8. Why do you care?

Jack had to admit, it had gotten pretty boring since Mark and Wade had left. Even when he was being called to go into the cafe every morning, and had to watch Elme if she went out anywhere, nothing really happened. There were no opportunities, and they hadn't decided whether putting poison in her food would work. Bob had briefly mentioned just using a gun to kill her, but Jack had then fixed him with a glare that spoke volumes about his opinion on that. And after that, no one really mentioned anything about the actual deed. Pretty soon Jack got tired of the back-and-forth motions.

"Do we really have to take so much time with Elme? After spending so long on Bars, this lets-follow-'em game is getting boring," Jack said one evening at dinner. The others looked at him, shocked he'd said anything. Jack reflected that he'd barely spoken in any of the group conversations before. Felix quickly became miffed.

"You know well that we're not intentionally taking a long time, Jack. You should stop fucking complaining. You're not the one who has to sort through countless files, or make hundreds of calls, or make coffees for randoms in the morning," Felix said, obviously vexed. Jack instantly remembered why he hated talking to people.

"Well I'm fucking sorry then, okay? It's not like I enjoy sitting around all day and waiting around for someone to tell me to go out and watch a bitch for hours on end. Don't act like you're the only fucking Saint around here," he snapped.

"I'm not acting like shit, we've got jobs to do so shut up and deal with it."

Jack hadn't really expected Felix to ever be the arguing type; he always seemed so happy and relaxed. Now it irritated Jack that his comment had been twisted into meaning something he'd never intended. Before he could retaliate, Cry cut in.

"Shut the fuck up, both of you. Stop acting like children, especially you, Felix. One bad connection doesn't give you the right to go off at anyone, Jack included," he said firmly.

"I'm not a fucking child, Cry. Stop interfering where it doesn't concern you," Felix hissed.

"Well you sure are behaving like one, so maybe start thinking about what you say before you say it," Cry retorted. "Stop dicking around and behave properly."

"Fuck off, I don't want to listen to your shit," Felix snarled, before leaving and shutting himself in his room. Jack raised an eyebrow, and Cry sighed.

"Sorry about him, guys. He had a bad sleep last night, and he got a call today that one of his more trusted contacts fell through. It put him in a bad mood, but he'll be fine by tomorrow," Cry assured them. No one said anything, so Jack took the opportunity to silently get up and leave to go back to his room.

As he sat on his bed, he found that fatigue had settled over his mind, and he was having trouble thinking properly. It was about time for him to go running, though, so he decided to take his mind off the current situation by exercising. He got ready, left the hotel and walked to the maple tree that stood on the corner of the street. Jack had changed his route since Bars' death, the new one weaving through urban streets. It didn't calm him as much as the forest had.

Jack stopped paying attention to his body as thoughts started swirling lazily in his mind. For whatever reason, they wandered back to Mark. Now that he was gone, that had started happening more often. Jack wasn't too surprised, the man had sworn to kill Jack, and could just barely keep his shit together when Jack was around. What the hell was he going to do about the troublesome man, especially once this was all over?

Jack, however, had come to a realisation. Mark had become the one person he was unwilling to kill. No matter how much Jack told himself he didn't care what happened to the redhead, didn't care about his dead brother, the words he'd spoken on that day nine years ago and the promise he'd made were still fresh on his lips. That day had dragged old memories into the light again, and reminded Jack of his sister. His conscience had forced him to let Mark go, but now the bastard had reappeared, and was a walking reminder of Jack's mistakes. His stomach twisted at the thought, and he wished he could forget about Mark altogether.

Suddenly his mind snapped back into reality, and Jack realised he was running too fast. He slowed down, and stopped, realising how hot and tired his body was. Looking around, he realised he'd strayed from his usual path. He still recognised his surroundings, however, so he forced himself to start walking back to the hotel. When he checked his phone, he saw it was 11:32 p.m.

By the time he got back, he'd already cooled down in the night air, but took a shower anyway. Water, for him, had always brought with it a semblance of peace; when he was immersed in it, he could almost forget about everything going on. Almost. But, even if it was superficial, it was still enough to make his tense muscles relax, and enough to drag his mind away from Mark, his brother, and the past.

After finishing, he pulled himself out of the shower, and into bed. He fell asleep almost instantly.

 

_A gunshot echoed, filling up the space in his ears where silence had taken over. It became everything, all he could hear; and all he could see was her, her face, her bittersweet expression twisting as she lay over him; and all he could feel was her blood crawling over his skin, soaking his shirt, his pants, his hands—_

 

Jack woke abruptly, his breathing heavy. He felt for his phone on the floor beside his bed. 2:48 a.m. It had been a long time since he'd last had a dream like that. Not long enough, or maybe too long. Knowing he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep easy, Jack pulled himself up, hanging his legs over the side of the bed, and as he did, looked at his hands. While he was sleeping, he'd clenched his fists so tight that he'd pierced the skin of his palms, and half-dried blood now caked his fingernails. When he tried unclenching them, he found that his fingers were so stiff that it hurt, but the dull pain reminded him that it was over, that he wasn't dreaming anymore, and it grounded him in reality.

Jack stood, and walked to the bathroom to wash his hands. As he did, he looked in the mirror, and took a moment to observe his appearance. Above all, he looked tired. Not from lack of sleep; but his existence. Tired of the world, of it fucking with him. When he was younger, he'd asked for a happy life with his sister. Later, all he asked for was peace, to somehow become normal. Now he knew that was impossible, and found that he didn't really care anymore. 

 _So why am I caring about Mark?_ the thought came unbidden, and Jack was annoyed that the redhead had yet again invaded his thoughts. He shook his head, as if that would somehow chase the thoughts away, and returned to his bed.

Jack didn't sleep for the rest of the night.

——

Mark woke up, not really knowing why. Picking up his phone, he checked the time—2:13 a.m. He lay there for a few more seconds before he realised what had disturbed him. The space next to him was empty, sheets laid in place to disguise Wade's absence. Immediately Mark became concerned, getting out of his bed to check the bath and dining rooms. A few minutes later, it was imminently clear that Wade wasn't in any of the rooms.

Wondering where the asshole had gotten off to, he stood by his bed and looked out the small window. Mark had instinctively stopped himself from turning on any lights, so his eyes could just make out the faint glisten of light on the waves, but there wasn't much else visible with no moonlight.

He couldn't tell how long he stared out for, but some time later Mark heard an audible _swoosh_ of the door opening in near-silence. Twisting around to look, he saw a silhouette trying to enter quietly—one he recognised as Wade. Evidently Wade also noticed him, as he stopped short while taking his shoes off.

"Mark? What are you doing awake?" Wade asked.

"You left," Mark stated, not answering.

"I did," Wade spoke cautiously. "I'll tell you about it in the morning, okay? Let's go back to bed for now, I'm dead tired."

Mark didn't reply, but continued to look out the window until he eventually slipped back under the covers. He fell into a fitful sleep much later.

  
Sunrise had begun about ten minutes ago, the first light staining the ship's deck, when Wade rung Mark. The redhead leaned against the railing of the ship, wind stinging his skin as it whipped past him. He didn't much feel like picking up, but ended up pulling his phone from his pocket and answering anyway. "What do you want, Wade?"

"Where the hell are you?" Wade's tone was a mix of urgency and tiredness.

"On the deck. Where were you last night?" Mark responded coolly.

"The deck…? God, just get back here, I'll tell you about it then." Wade ended the call with a small _click_ , and Mark returned to gazing out at the ocean that lay before him. The waves glittered, a canvas of broken glass, accompanied by a harsh breeze in his ears and the quiet murmur of people behind him. Clouds loomed above, promising storms. Somehow, even in the dismal weather, people were still coming out to the deck—though their numbers were far fewer. Mark was grateful for that—their talk was filling up the space between his ears that had been haunting him since he'd woken up two hours ago. He'd barely gotten any sleep after Wade had disappeared during the night, but strangely didn't feel too tired.

Acknowledging that he probably should respond to Wade's summons, Mark stepped back from the railing and strolled lazily to their room. Swiping the keycard, he stepped inside and was immediately hit with the smell of pancakes. Wade sat at the small table, already close to finishing his meal.

"Jeez, why'd you have to start without me?" Mark complained.

Wade shrugged, replying, "You weren't here."

"Sure. Speaking of which, where were you last night?" Mark took the opportunity to interrogate Wade, sitting down at the table and beginning to eat his pancakes.

"Roule left his room and I went to check it out." This news surprised Mark, but the vagueness irritated him.

"So what happened?" Mark questioned.

"He was seeing a girl. They met on the deck—there's a quiet spot where a wall blocks the wind—and talked for about an hour and a half," Wade sighed, seeming to grow tired at the mere memory. "Yeah, I stayed there the whole time, if you're wondering. It almost killed me, and nothing even happened in the end. I couldn't get to him; if I had tried, one of them would have called out. Even on his way back it was too well-lit and open for me to try anything."

Mark nodded, taking the information in. "Okay… did Roule say anything about making any plans?"

"He did mention going to see a show in the theatre at two p.m., and there was an off-hand suggestion that they go to it together, but she didn't seem enthusiastic. He might still go, though."

"So I guess that's the next appointment, then?" Mark supposed.

"Yep, but you're going to watch the bug for the next few hours, alright? I've had enough of it." Wade yawned, and stood up, taking his empty plate to the bench. Mark's mood dampened at the mention of sitting around until two p.m., essentially not being able to do anything.

After taking his own plate up, Mark settled into sitting on his bed, Wade's laptop opened beside him to the screen that showed a small map, and an icon for Roule. Turning the TV on, he readied himself for a boring afternoon.

  
When one p.m. rolled around, Mark's body ached and his butt was sore. The whole day, he'd only gotten up once—not that it was his fault, the show he'd been binge watching was so goddamn interesting that he couldn't bear to tear himself away. Wade, after coming back from a morning wandering around the ship, had shaken his head; 'not angry, just disappointed.'

Standing up was painful, but after Wade had forcibly stolen the remote and turned the TV off Mark didn't have much of a choice.

"You're not even grateful—I mean, I watched that goddamn screen for, what, five hours?" Mark said, annoyed.

"Are you serious? Get over it, Mark, I've been on it since we set the bug up," Wade rolled his eyes. Mark clicked his tongue but didn't say anything, grabbing some clothes before going to have a shower. Somehow the hot water always seemed to relax him.

Afterwards, they made their way to the theatre, with about forty minutes to spare. They were too early to be let in, so they made do with a bag of popcorn, munching their way through it in a nearby seating area.

"Hey, speak of the devil," Wade commented as Roule appeared ten minutes before the show started, a woman at his side. Mark glanced discreetly at the two.

"Is she the same one you saw before?" Mark asked, his voice quiet but face appearing normal.

"I think so, it was kind of hard to tell."

"Alright, let's get some more popcorn."

"And a drink, too, I'm parched."

"Is that really still a thing? Parched?"

Mark shrugged, pulling out his wallet to pay the woman. When they opened the door, the pair waited till Roule had gone in, following quietly and choosing a seat two rows behind him. Looking at the back of Roule's head only managed to convince Mark even more that the bastard's hair colour was eerily like Jack's. It made him restless, and Mark half-expected the man to turn around at look at him with those ridiculously blue eyes he'd hated for so long. Wade seemed to notice his uneasiness, nudging him to remind Mark that he couldn't draw attention.

Mark tried to settle into the seat, preparing for a long and boring show, but he realised it was hot, annoyingly hot, and wondered why. He wished he could take off his jacket, but there wasn't enough room while he was sitting, and standing to do it would attract attention. For about half a minute he tried to ignore the heat, but then he gave up. It was sweltering, it was so, fucking, hot, and he was suffocating in it.

Mark stood, barely mumbling a word to Wade before walking down the aisle, all the way out of the cinema to a door marked 'Men's'. As soon as he stepped through the door, a wave of relief washed over him. The cool air started to calm him down. He felt so tense. Mark took off his jacket, putting it on a bench beside the sinks, and leaned over one, noticing gratefully that he was alone in the bathroom.

He paused, letting out a heavy breath, and turned on the tap. Scooping a handful of water, he splashed his face, the cold water shocking him. He heard someone enter the bathroom and glanced at the door through the mirror, just as Wade entered. Water still dripping down his face, Mark turned around.

"Mark? What are you doing?" Wade asked, sounding half-worried and half-pissed.

Mark took a breath. "Nothing. I just… felt a bit hot. I'll come back, but give me a minute." He wiped his face with his shirt, and said nothing as Wade nodded and left the bathroom. _Shit… what the hell's wrong with me…_ Mark groaned as he heard his phone ring from his pocket.

Taking it out, he noticed it was a private number as he answered it.

…Silence.

"Hello? Who is this?" Mark started to feel irritated.

An unsteady voice came through. "Oh, you're there."

"No fucking joke, who is this?" Mark was about to hang up.

"It's Jack."

Mark stopped for a moment, incredulous. "Jack? The fuck are you doing calling me? Where's Felix?"

"Felix… is out. Probably getting drunk."

"It's two, what's he doing getting drunk so early?" Mark was utterly confused. Why was Jack calling him?

"I don't know, ask him that," Jack scoffed. "But… before he left, he told me to call and check up on you guys, ask how you were going with it all."

"Why do you care?" Mark said angrily.

"I don't, I was asking cause Felix wanted me to," Jack growled.

"Well, we're fine," Mark sighed. "Look, I've got to go. I'm busy—doing work." He said firmly.

"Fuck, Mark, hang on a second," Jack said urgently, and Mark paused, waiting. Silence followed.

Frustrated, Mark gave up waiting. "Alright I'm hanging up, I can't deal with this bullshit."

"No! It's that… Felix wanted me to ask you to call him later. When you're not busy." Jack said quickly. Why the hell had Jack wanted to say that? Felix could have just texted Mark if it was necessary.

"Sure, whatever, bye." Mark was as he finally hung up, sick of talking. God, he felt so much more tired than he should have been. Mark leaned over the sink, looking into the drain. The feeling washed over him again… why the fuck had Jack called him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been far too long, but here it is guys! Chapter eight. Hope ya'll like it. Thanks for reading!


	9. Hiatus Note (Not a Chapter)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, but this story is taking a hiatus!

Hey guys, as you've probably seen, I'm going to be putting this story on hiatus (indefinitely). I'm taking a break for a while, mainly because I have problems with what I've written so far, and I really don't like publishing half-baked chapters. I thought about this for a long time, but in the end I decided to do it.   
I am planning to return to this eventually! When I do I'll probably be rewriting it. There will be change (but not a lot) to the chapters you've already seen. In the meantime, I'll be working on other stuff to publish here, so don't get too upset.  
Thanks for your support, and I'll see you guys later! 


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